Hunted
by Vixen 71
Summary: Hermione/Scabior! She felt it, in a shiver that ran from the top of her head, to the tip of her toes. He was searching for her.   And with those searching, predatory eyes… she felt thoroughly exposed.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Okay all, so whilst I've been ill, and since seeing the movie, I've been totally crushing on Scabior… **DROOL** And no, no one can ever replace my Snapey-poos for biggest crush-fest ever, closely followed by Draco and then Lucius… But Scabior is certainly trying. Yummy… **re-reads** Okay, so we've all established I obviously have some form of mental disorder… OR I'm just the sane one, and it's normal to be attracted to hot and sexy Slytherins. Anyways, I couldn't help this lil plot bunny, so I fed it carrots and stuff. Will get back to my other fics shortly.

Lov- Crazy Girl

(AKA. Vixen)

**Chapter One**

**First Encounter**

Hermione's heart was pounding violently inside her chest.

iDo not move. Whatever you do, do not move… And keep your breathing steady… You stupid, stupid idiot!/i

Because she knew why she was stuck in her current situation. She knew it was her own stupid fault. In her own, stupendously idiotic need to attract Ron's attention, even after so many years of numerous failed attempts- she had worn perfume.

She cursed silently, her whole body thrumming with fear as she stared fearfully at the Snatcher before her.

The one staring right back.

He had walked past her, following the other Snatchers… the ones with the bodies. Hermione could only hope that their captives were still alive, because she didn't have time to ponder. Her heart had plummeted into her stomach as the Snatcher had stopped, stock still, before turning back.

For a moment she feared the wards had fallen. But, deep down, she knew that was an unnecessary worry. No matter how much she doubted herself, she should not doubt her magic. Those protection spells had been perfect, because she'd had people to protect.

The man had walked slowly over to her, his eyes searching the area around her before he stopped, inches in front of her. She held her breath instinctively, wishing him away. She wanted to close her eyes, but fear rooted them there, wide and staring as he stared straight at her.

Seconds seemed to last lifetimes as the rugged Snatcher stared back. And she knew he had to be seeing right through her; to the forest beyond… but those eyes… those inquisitive eyes were staring deeply into hers.

It was as though she was under a spell, captivated completely by the way those eyes were staring out at her. The hunter looking for the hunted.

Bluish-gray eyes, wide and searching but never moving from hers. It was as though he was searching her, searching her very soul. She felt it, in a shiver that ran from the top of her head, to the tip of her toes. He was searching for her.

And with those searching, predatory eyes… she felt thoroughly exposed.

He was calculating, his mind ticking as he stood, waiting for some sign that she was there, standing just beyond the barrier. She saw it, the way his mind turned each thought over, waiting.

iFLUMP!/i

And suddenly he blinked, and the spell was broken. He turned, leaving her free to let go of that breath, the one she'd held for far too long. Because she was dizzy now. And dizzy with relief when he walked away, addressing one of the Snatchers who appeared to be so obviously in his command.

The Snatcher picked up the body he had dropped to the floor, following the one who had stared her out. It was clear he was in charge, and no one seemed about to question it.

She couldn't move. Her feet were still frozen to that spot as they walked on, without one backwards glance. Her whole body was thrumming with fear, exhilaration and now a flood of relief.

That had been close… far to close.

She scrubbed at her neck with her hand as she backed up.

Something about the way he had looked at her made her shiver, made her feel like she was still being watched. She turned, hurrying back to the camp, because something about those eyes haunted her. Even though the Snatcher was gone, she saw them, burnt into the back of her head, reminding her just how real the danger now was.

The look in those eyes told her one clear thing…

She was being hunted.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Upon returning to the tent Hermione had been rebuked by Harry, warning her not to wear perfume next time.

As if she needed telling.

And as if there would ever be a next time!

But as the weeks went on, and the animosity between the three of them rose, Hermione found herself questioning if maybe it would have been better if she'd been captured by the Snatchers.

Ron and Harry were fighting again.

And maybe it would have been better if she had been taken, because she saw Ron advancing on Harry all too angrily. Without thinking she cast a spell.

"Protego."

All of them were forced back by the strength of the spell, her and Harry on one side of the shield, Ron on the other. And why had she done that? Why wasn't he listening?

Why hadn't she made a noise? Saved herself from this by making a noise all those weeks ago.

Because Ron was walking out of the tent. He wasn't listening to a word she was saying… no, shrieking. And she was calling after him, the rain thundering down on her, but she barely noticed.

"RON!"

With her final sob, a crack sounded over the noise of the rain, telling her that somewhere in the darkness, Ron had apparated.

And that was when she realised that her cheeks were wet, and not from the rain.

That was when she steeled herself and went inside. Told Harry he was gone, and sat down to cry.

And she almost had been caught, all those weeks ago. And all because she was wearing perfume for him. For the red-haired stranger, who had just ignored her cries. For Ronald Weasley, who had heard them, and still abandoned her.

Hermione had tied her pink scarf around a tree before she and Harry left the camp.

She tried to put off their departure for as long as possible, but Harry was not so reluctant. And she knew he was right. It wasn't safe for them to stay so long in one place. And they needed to keep moving, to keep searching. They needed to work out where to go next.

Upon apparating to their new destination, however, Hermione fell to her knees. Despite the usual feeling of having the wind swept from her, she felt empty. Ron had left them. He had left her.

No matter what doubts she had ever had concerning his feelings, she had always, firmly believed that he would never abandon her. Not like that. And the fact that they were now away from him, completely apart, with no way for him to find them… well. She didn't know how to feel… other than empty.

After the incident at Godric's Hollow, Hermione was even more careful with how diligently she protected Harry. In all the commotion, his wand had snapped in half. She was now the only thing standing between the rest of the world and the Boy-Who-Lived. She couldn't bare it if anything happened to him. So she gave him her wand, making him keep a hold of it as much as possible.

And it was like she'd lost a limb.

Adding her loss of Ron, to the constant lending of her wand to Harry, Hermione felt more vulnerable than ever. It was worse at night, when she lay asleep in her bunk.

Amidst her usual nightmares, the ones where white masks shone back at her in the darkness, a new fear rose. Amidst the screams, the fright, the nose-less face of what Hermione knew to be Voldemort, was those eyes. Those hunting, piercing, calculating eyes.

And they hunted her out. They had her running in the darkness from all those other fears. Fears that should have been far greater to her, but weren't.

They made her feel vulnerable, isolated… naked some how.

So when Ron returned a few nights later, despite her anger, she welcomed him. Thinking that perhaps with his return, the nightmares would end.

But they didn't.

They only gave her more reason to fear being alone after dark. They made her jump at every noise, turn at every passing shadow. That man was out there somewhere, the one with piercing eyes that unknowingly seemed to search her soul. And all he seemed to have drawn from her was fear.

The fear that she would once again be found, alone in the forest. And the whole incident had driven home the fact of how thoroughly ridiculously dangerous it was for her to be a female, alone in the woods.

But she wasn't alone now right?

She had never ireally/i been alone. Not with Harry there. And now Ron. It would be okay… right?

But no matter how much she tried to convince herself… it was never enough.

It was early. Too early. And still too dark outside.

The previous night had been a pleasant one. Harry, Ron and herself had sat around, laughing about old times as Ron reported back on the whereabouts and safety of the Order. Although not a funny thing in itself, the conversation had focused on the twin's current antics as Ron had informed them of their radio station- Potter Watch.

She'd had three good nights sleep with no nightmares.

Perhaps that was the stupid reason she decided to venture outside?

Still clad in light-gray pyjama bottoms and a long-sleeved, baby-blue top, Hermione had wandered outside. She stretched, her top rising and showing a vast expanse of her flat, toned belly. Her pyjama bottoms hung low on her hips as she shivered in the cold, wrapping herself back up in her blanket.

She held the woolen blanket round her, trying to tame her sleep-tussled hair back into place. The sun had risen but it was still dim, grey and silent. A fog hung about the trees, but oddly it made her feel safer. Like they would be harder to see, even if her barriers were broken.

She yawned and made her way down the leaf-strewn slope towards the lake. She would settle down there and take in the morning scenery, work out where they should go next, before the boys woke. She wanted to give them time to sleep. Time to rest.

Her fleece-lined boots warmed her cold feet as she slipped past the trees and slipped slightly on the damp leaves. Soon enough she was at the small, frozen lake, drowsy but appreciating the beauty of the foggy dawn.

She walked carefully over to the lake, seeing that vast expanse of the ice had cracked around the edges of it. She crouched down and cupped the freezing cold water in her hands, before splashing it on her face. It was so refreshing as it ran down her neck that she almost didn't noticed the noise in the tree behind her.

A bird took flight suddenly, making her look up, following its flight. She wrapped the blanket round her tighter, rising slowly to her full height. She stood, silent and still as she peered around, waiting for some sign that she was not alone.

But she received none. No more birds took hurried flights. No woodland creatures foraged. Only the fog remained with her, impeding her view. She decided to get back. This just wasn't the nice, comforting idea she had first thought.

She turned, stepping carefully, heading back the way she came. It was as she approached the tree the bird took flight from, however, that a noise made her look up.

iThud./i

There, before her, having just jumped gracefully from the tree… was her Snatcher.

Yes… her Snatcher. Because those piercing eyes were real this time and the man before her was smirking.

Her heart pounded. She'd made ianother/i foolish mistake. And they all seemed to happen around this man.

"Hello Beautiful."

His smooth voice made her heart still. His dark-rimmed eyes looked her up and down the once, before his smirk widened.

This couldn't be happening. This had to be a nightmare. This couldn't be possible. She'd put up the wards!

But then she remembered that Ron had volunteered to do that job. Ron had circled the camp, tired after several nights on guard, trying to make his disappearance up to her. Merlin. Oh Merlin.

Hermione stepped back, holding the blanket tightly around her trembling form. The Snatcher before her was approaching slowly, stalking towards her lazily. His hair was shaggy, brown and wild- long and tangled with a red streak through it. He was clad in black boots, dark plaid trousers and a dark studded belt. To accompany them he wore a black duster jacket with what looked like a brown waistcoat beneath it.

His general appearance was shabby- what she expected from someone who appeared to trample through the forest all day. He probably slept there as well for all she knew. But despite the dirt, the shabbiness and the fear that he was inducing in her, those eyes looked far too clean in contrast.

Hermione tried to move her arm beneath the blanket, reaching for her wand, which lay at the waistband of her pyjama bottoms.

"Ah-Ah!" The Snatcher wagged his finger once, humour evident in his eyes as he watched her. His wand had been in his other hand the whole time, and with barely a flick and a mutter, she felt her wand slip from her waistband before it flew into his hand.

She wanted to scream. Wanted to call for Ron, call for Harry. Call for anyone that might help her.

But then they'd be in danger too. What if he wasn't alone? All she could hope was that she had foolishly wandered that little bit too far, beyond Ron's magical borders of protection. Because if she hadn't, then the boys were at risk too. And if this man found them, it would be her fault.

Hermione took another step back, trying to steel herself against the panic that raced inside her. She had faced far greater fears than this… so why then did he terrify her so much?

"What do you want?" Hermione questioned boldly, grateful that her voice didn't betray her true emotion.

"At last… she speaks!" The Snatcher jokingly exclaimed. "I was beginning to think I'd caught a mute."

"You haven't caught me yet." Hermione muttered under her breath. The jolt of amusement in his eyes told him he had heard her.

"Be careful girl. It's the chase I love the best." He waggled his eyebrows slightly, suggestively. She took a step back.

He took another step towards her.

"Imagine my surprise, as I sat, napping in the branches of that tree…" He motioned at the tree behind him with his wand. "When a young lady wandered into view."

His smirk was too wide, too evident. It was freezing her blood more than the coldness of the weather around her was. She stepped back again, reminding herself to stay calm, to stay quiet. She could talk her way out of this… she had to.

"What do you want?" She questioned again, slightly louder. She held the blanket in her hands so tightly that they ached.

"What do you want to give me?" He teased, biting his tongue between his teeth as he looked at her suggestively.

Hermione stared back at him coldly, growing ever more uncomfortable by the shrinking distance between the two of them.

"Nothing." She stated, stony faced. She glared at him. Tried to show him that she wasn't afraid of him.

"Now, now luv! Don't get all fiery-eyed with me. You're the one that's wandering in the woods, so you can't be so surprised when you run into a wolf."

And that combination of smirk and piercing, predatory eyes, made her quiver. She was trembling with anticipation, waiting for him to pounce, waiting for her chance to flee. Because at that moment she felt very much like she'd run into a wolf, and she seemed to be his ideal supper.

Hermione could hear her breathing quicken as he closed the distance between them, so close that they were almost touching. She opened her mouth, unable to stand it any longer. She went to scream, unsure if the sound would even escape her throat. But it didn't get the chance.

The Snatcher's hand clamped over her mouth and he forced her backwards. She stumbled back, hitting a tree after about five startled paces. Her back slammed into it and she closed her eyes tightly, wishing that when she opened them again, she'd find that this was just another nightmare.

But it wasn't.

He was standing there, large as life, too close for comfort. His head was tilted to the side, as he looked slightly bemused.

"You know who I am right?" He questioned. "iWhat/i I am?" He added. He released the pressure on her head slightly to let her answer with a nod of the head. He let out a bemused chuckle.

"Well then Treacle, if you won't behave for me…" He titled his head to the other side suggestively. "Then perhaps you'll behave for ol' Greyback? Heard of him?" He didn't need to taunt her. Her eyes had grown wider yet at the realisation of his words and she'd begun to shake her head, panicking, her lips still pressed against his hand.

His hands smelt like earth, like the forest. The smell of evergreens hung in the air around them, a gentle scent, but the smell of wet earth on his hands was stronger.

She closed her eyes again for a second. Trying to hide from the piercing eyes before her.

iWhat did he want? What did he want?/i

But that woman's intuition inside had already answered with the quickened beating of her heart against her chest.

"So you have heard of him then?" The Snatcher taunted. "You might wanna keep quiet then luv? Because I'm sure he'd more than happily have his merry little way with you…"

He looked at the blanket, veiled annoyance clouded his eyes.

"But his way ent exactly merry, if you get my meaning." He sneered at the woolen blanket, the only thing she had for protection that still stood between her and the Snatcher. "They never normally make it through, after he's bitten into 'em a few times."

And Hermione got the message. As she stared up at this predator, pinning her to the tree, she wondered if she should take her chances with the real werewolf. Because this one… this one was making her quiver.

"So are you gonna behave?" He questioned, as he took his hand away. He bowed his head slightly to look her in the eyes but she turned her head away from him, avoiding his gaze.

She heard a small chuckle in response but let out a sudden gasp of fright as his hand suddenly tugged the blanket from her grip. Her eyes widened again, watching as the blanket landed on the floor behind his right shoulder. His smile stretched broadly across his face as his eyes shone cheekily.

Hermione crossed her arms instantly, looking at her wand as he placed it in his jacket pocket.

iNo./I

She could barely breathe as he raised his wand to her face. It trailed a light mark up her cold cheek as her shoulders rose.

iOh Merlin. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit./i

Her breath rose before her in a white mist as her chest rose and fell hurriedly. Her eyes stung slightly, threatening to betray her as she took in how helpless and vulnerable she was. But she steeled herself against it. She would get through this.

…Somehow.

She stared at him, tried to search his eyes for some form of clue. Anything to get her out of the situation she had found herself trapped in. His eyes was searching her though, roaming her face first with the trail of his wand.

He took in her lips and flushed cheeks. She was cold, holding her arms around her chest, hoping he'd dismiss her trembling as shivering. His eyes roamed down her neck, his hand came out to grab at her wrist.

Stubbornly she fought against him, trying to keep her arms wrapped over her chest but failing against his strength. He yanked her arm away, taking in her figure before letting her wrap her other arm across her chest. The cold air had made her nipples harden, and he could see it through her top. Her face flushed and she closed her eyes again, feeling shame and embarrassment flood her body.

And the whole time he was examining it.

His eyes travelled down, lingering at the thin expanse of flat belly that could be seen before his eyes met her pyjama bottoms, slung low on her hips. Her top had ridden up in her struggle, her bottoms still loose from sleep. But she was still covered. She could praise that little miracle.

The Snatcher's eyes moved back to hers, and he grinned wolfishly. She struggled again.

"Don't." A warning, surprisingly from her.

He chuckled at that, still holding her thin wrist in his tight grasp as she twisted to try and pull away. He leant closer, making her heart pound harder against her chest.

"iDon't!/i" But that sounded so much more like she was pleading with him not to. She wanted to stay strong, stay determined but that last word sounded too much like a cry.

"Shhhhh…" He reached out, soothing her hair with his hands. "You don't know what I'm gonna do yet…" He sniggered slightly. "You might enjoy it."

"No." She tried not to let her voice get too loud, but was finding it harder as he leant into her. "No… I won't!" She froze as his body pressed against hers. Even let out an uncontrollable gasp. Their bodies pressed flush against each other, her knees weak as he leant into her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair.

iOh God./i

His head snapped back enough for him to look at her. A mixture of shock and confusion were plastered on his face.

"It's you."

Two words. And they were causing so much confusion amidst the panic in her head.

"What?" She breathed, still leaning as far back into the tree as she could.

"It's you…" he said again. "That smell… It's been driving me crazy for weeks."

It was the only explanation she received as she looked back at him, eyes wide in fear and confusion.

Suddenly his lips crashed onto hers.

In the shock of it she tried to pull her head back, only pressing it further into the rough bark of the tree she was up against. She let out a muffled cry, surprised by the sudden assault. He used this to his advantage, slipping his tongue into her mouth. His tongue caressed hers, stilling it, silencing her cry.

And she felt sick. She felt the fear running through her every pore. Every inch of her was thrumming, surging, like an electric current had suddenly passed through her. His lips were devouring her mouth, his tongue battling against hers as she tried to push at his chest with her free hand.

She fisted her hand, beating against his chest. She twisted and struggled against him, trying to pull her wrist from his hand. He let out a small groan and suddenly his hand was on the back of her hair, his fingers in her hair.

iNo./I.

iNo. This wasn't happening.

It couldn't be. Please no.

Please. Harry! Ron! Anyone!/i

And why wasn't anyone coming across her. Why hadn't the boys got their arses out of bed yet? And inside her head she was screaming at him to let her go.

She bit down on his tongue and he pulled back. She braced herself, fully expecting a punishment for it, but glowering at him all the same.

"Ow." His moan as he pulled away, his fingers from her hair now, touching his tongue. He looked down at them, saw there was no blood and then looked back up at her.

"Well that wasn't very nice… was it?" His hand went back to her hair, yanking at a handful of it. She let out a strangled cry, before quashing it. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her hurt.

"Get off of me!" Her voice was torn but strong as she cried out at him, pulling at the grip on her wrist. She wriggled violently against him again and he let out a humorous chuckle. "Now doing ithat/i certainly ent gonna help your situation."

Realising what he meant she let out a strangled growl, pushing at his chest, hitting at it again. But he didn't budge. He seemed to find it all very amusing.

"Fiesty one you are ent ya?" He sniggered, stepping back to watch her thrash about. He pretended to stroke his stubbled chin with his spare hand as he watched her. "But if you like biting so much, perhaps I ishould/i hand you over to Greyback after all."

"No." She told him. "No. Just let me go. I haven't done anything wrong! Just let me go!"

"Now luv, you're wandering around a dimly lit forest, in the foggy early hours of the morning… alone. I'd say there's sommat wrong with that picture. Don't you think?"

And the suggestion that she wasn't alone nearly slipped through her lips. So nearly she had to bite her tongue.

"So you thought you'd just come and take advantage of the situation did you?" She snapped at him angrily. Because she'd had enough. She needed to get away from him. Get back to the tent and as far away from there as possible.

"Naturally." When he smiled at her in reply, she supposed some women might class it as cheeky, charming… dashing even. But in this situation it could only be frightening.

"Besides, how can I help myself when you look…" His eyes travelled down her body.

"…smell and…"

Her head slammed back against the tree again as his lips crashed against hers, planting on firm kiss on her lips before he pulled away, chuckling slightly.

"…itaste,/i so delicious." He smiled at her, cocking his head and bowing it to look at her as she stared back, appalled. "A man can hardly be blamed for his actions." He continued.

"A man can ialways/i be blamed for his actions." She mumbled back coldly. His smiled fell from his face.

"Ahh, don't go all boring on me inow/i luv." He teased her, stepping in against her again. "Not when we're getting to the good part."

As he grinned wolfishly at her, his free hand came up. His hand cupped her cheek at first, before sliding down her neck, making her turn her head away. It carried travelling down, gliding down her chest and across her breast.

Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes, burying her head against her shoulder as much as possible. His hand cupped the side of her breast, still, just holding it there. But his thumb finished it's journey, sliding down and flicking across her peaked nipple.

Despite biting her lip, she still couldn't stop the whimper.

She knew he'd heard it. She could tell because she felt his eyes move back up to her face again, despite her eyes being closed. And she felt sick. Sick, because despite how very, utterly and sickeningly wrong it was, her body was responding to his touch.

Her own body was betraying her. Responding to that predatory glare; the hunger and the want.

This could not be happening.

Before she could stop herself, she swung for him. Her one free hand swung round with her arm and hit him across the cheek. Why hadn't she done it before?

But instead of finding herself freed by his grip, it only tightened as he cradled his face. He groaned loudly, swearing, holding his hand over his nose before he turned back to her. She saw the anger in his eyes and trembled, pressing herself so hard against the tree that she hoped she'd fall inside the trunk.

An audible growl left his throat before he swung his own arm, his grip letting go of her wrist at the end of the swing. She fell forwards with the force of it, slamming against wet leaves and damp earth.

She called out, trying to scramble up and scramble forwards to her feet. But he was on her in seconds. His tight grip slammed down on her upper arms, turning her, forcing her onto her back. She kicked out at him, trying to scramble backwards still, even whilst still in his grip.

"Ahhh! Don't!" She cried out. But she wasn't thinking about how loud she was being this time. She thought only about self-preservation. This snatcher was pressing her into the forest floor, scrambling to get on top of her.

Her hips hit his as she struggled, desperate to get away.

"I was trying to be nice…" He spoke through gritted teeth, holding her in a bruising grip on her upper arms. He shook her. "If you wanted a monster, I could have turned you over to Greyback. I just wanted a bit of fun… I wouldn't have hurt you… you would have enjoyed it."

"Please! Please don't do this!" Hermione shrieked, her voice muffled at the end of her cry as the front of his jacket fell against her mouth. She turned her head, tasting the leather on her tongue.

"If you don't shut up, Greyback will be the one you're answering to." He warned her, still fighting against her struggles. And despite all her will power she felt herself crumple. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes as she pressed and pushed against him, trying to scramble back, her boots slipping on wet leaves.

"Fine! Fine! I'll answer to him! But please! Please don't do this!"

She hated herself. She hated how weak she was in that moment. She hated that she was begging him. That she was asking for one monster over another. But at least with Greyback her body wouldn't respond. She could guarantee that.

There was something so terrifying about the fact that her body had reacted, responded to this Snatcher's touch. It both terrified her… and made her hate herself.

The body above her froze. Her eyes sought his, silently questioning his reaction. Was he angry? Was he about to turn her over?

But the man on his hands and knees, leaning over her, her legs trapped between his, had frozen. He was staring at her. That piercing look again, but this time different. Complete bewilderment and confusion blazed beneath those eyes. She didn't understand. He just stared at her, shocked and confused but still in control… always in control.

He was the predator, she was the prey.

He the hunter… she was the hunted.

And so suddenly he had gone from being inches away, breathing her in as the scent of him filled her nostrils, his grip bruising her skin. So suddenly he stood, straightened his jacket and stepped away.

She lay there, sprawled on her back, damp, muddy and disheveled, looking up at him in fear. He looked back, silently. His entire attitude had changed completely. It was evident that this wasn't fun anymore.

He took one last look at her, lying on the floor, tears wet on her face as she looked up questioningly at him. And then he turned, shrugged his jacket straight again, and began to walk away. Without so much as a backwards glance, as he reached the small leaf-strewn slope she had slipped down, he threw her wand over his shoulder.

Hermione lay there silently, shivering for several minutes.

iWhat had just happened?/i

Because she was still shaking from it. Still breathing hard from it. Still dreading that he would return. But all the same… why had he stopped?

She scrambled round on all fours before she managed to get herself to her feet, half slipping, half running to her wand. She grabbed it, sinking down into a small, crouched ball as she grasped her wand tightly. She let the tears slide down her face, but forbade herself from sobbing loudly. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction if she was still nearby.

And she wanted to move. Wanted to pull herself to her feet and run back to the tent. But she was trembling so violently, so scared… still processing what had happened. Maybe half an hour passed in her post-traumatic state before she heard voices.

Her heart pounded in her chest again, terrified he had returned, but this time with Greyback like he had threatened. As the footsteps approached she waited, crouched in the wet leaves, grasping her wand in both hands.

Suddenly the owners of the voices came into view at the top of the slope and Hermione brandished her wand at them.

Panic struck her again at the last second, preventing her from firing her wand. But she still held it there for a further few moments.

"'Mione?" Ron questioned dimly as he and Harry stood, frozen in place, eyes on her wand. "You alright?"

And as though hearing his voice was what she needed to hear, she snapped out of it.

"Y-yeah…" She murmured. "Yeah, I fell down… that's all."

A/N: I've been getting a lot of story alerts for this, so I will no longer be posting this fic on this site. If you're interested in this fic, please go to the following link. ;) Thanks! xxx .?no=600026496


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Captured

Scabior had been sitting high amongst the branches of a strong and sturdy tree. It was his favourite place to sit and think, looking out at the forest around him, watching the birds in nearby trees.

He had been slouched on a thick branch, his back against the trunk as he drowsily considered his job. He needed a catch. As much as he loved his job- having been prepared for it for most of his life- the pay wasn't guaranteed. If he didn't find another Mudblood soon, he was going to go hungry for the next month.

Something else was bothering him.

There had been a distinct lack of women wandering around recently.

The Mudbloods he caught were always far too keen to exchange sex for their freedom. Back home even the under-age witches had thrown themselves to his attentions. But recently it had only been men. Not the feisty witches he'd caught for months at the beginning. They had been all too eager to please him in exchange for their release… and it meant he got his too.

He wasn't like some of the others. He wanted them to want it too. And usually they did. Since he had come of age a large percentage of women had flocked to him, finding something attractive within his cheeky and mischievous personality. Mostly, around him, women just wanted to have fun.

And he wasn't about to complain.

It was as he considered his next pay and how many weeks he'd have to make do without if a Mudblood didn't show, that a rustling below him made him open his eyes.

He held onto the branch above him, leaning round to see someone clambering noisily through the undergrowth. He almost chuckled, seeing that the person was making so much noise.

He watched as they slipped slightly, the blanket falling back slightly, revealing long hair.

A woman. She looked to be of age as well.

Perfect.

And so he had waited, watched from the safety and unseen hiding place he had chosen just for this reason. He climbed down slowly, keeping his eyes on her as much as possible. And he was wild, a perfect creature of the forest. And he had been playing in it since he could walk. He'd always returned home with broken limbs from climbing trees and cuts from falling down holes and running through mud.

Yes, he had been born to be a Snatcher. To live hunting.

And his pray looked delectable as she crouched down and splashed water across her face and neck. He watched, entranced as the beads of water slipped under her collar. Oh yes. It had been a very long time- the hitch of his groin reminded him.

As he settled on the lower branch, letting go of the one above, it sprang up, almost hitting a bird and making it take flight.

He turned, eyes on the girl through the leaves. Yes, she was definitely of age. He stayed back, hidden in the shadows, protected by the mass of leaves. He looked at her, into those wide, panicked eyes and licked his lips.

Merlin he loved the thrill of hunting. It was especially more fun when it was women, when he could hunt them, charm them… fuck them. Yes, this one looked particularly delicious. Her wild, brown hair was tussled, bed head hair. And it made him want to tangle his hands in it.

Yes, this one was his.

And he saw how startled she was as she moved to hurry back in the direction she'd come from. Merlin, what the girl was doing in the middle of the forest on her own was beyond him. But at that moment all he cared, was that she was his. She had appeared at just the right moment, like fate had granted her to him.

He smiled darkly. He was going to enjoy this.

When he approached her, teasing, he saw the delicious fear in her eyes. Yes. They were always scared at first, unsure and afraid of where he'd take her. That was normal. But then he's approach them, tease them, whisper things in their ear. Sometimes he didn't even need to make suggestions. Mostly they just caught on.

But this one was different. With this one he was going to have to tease it out of her, work it out of her. And with her, he really didn't mind at all.

He ripped the blanket from her; saw the shape of her figure beneath her night clothes.

No… He didn't mind at all.

He chuckled as she crossed her arms, but didn't miss the reason why. And her breath was rising in a mist before, quick and panicky. Like a frightened rabbit cornered by a fox. He smiled.

He teased her face with his wand, taking her in. She really was beautiful, delicate… delicious. He couldn't wait to devour her. He took in her ripe, rosy lips, her flushed cheeks. Her skin was pale from the cold but it was creamy and smooth.

His eyes travelled down that expanse of neck, wanting to bite down on it. But he would wait. He would work on her, tease her. It was no fun if they didn't participate. If they didn't want it back. He'd seen enough Snatchers doing that, enough Death Eaters doing it. It just didn't look as fun as having a willing woman beneath him, before him, on her knees, on her back, on her front. No. He would work this one up to it. No matter how reluctant she seemed, he knew she'd want it. They always did.

A threat of Greyback here and there, who would any normal person choose?

She fought him as he pulled her arm away from her chest. She was a feisty one, this one.

"Don't!" She repeated, sounding scared, pleading him.

"Shhhhh…" He reached out, soothing her hair with his hands. "You don't know what I'm gonna do yet…" He sniggered slightly. "You might enjoy it."

And that was the point they usually understood. As he reassured her he fully expected her to accept his attentions, his silent proposal. But to his surprise she called out.

"No."

iNo?/i

"No… I won't!" She froze as his body pressed against hers. His smile broadened, not missing her gasp. That was better. He pressed his body flush against hers and felt her knees buckle slightly as he leant into her hair. That was better.

He inhaled, taking a deep breath into her hair.

iWhat?/i

He pulled back immediately, staring at her, searching her eyes. It was her. That smell! It had been haunting him when he caught the scent weeks ago. He had been sure something was there in the forest, he was sure he had smelt something.

Something floral and sweet and something he would contribute to the idea of innocence. Pure. She smelt pure… with a hint of vanilla.

"It's you." The words slipped out, smooth as he found the idea of taking her uncontrollable. He was hungry for her, starving almost. He was desperate to take her, to have her. She was his. He had caught her, he had smelt her all those weeks ago. He was meant to have her.

"It's you…" he said again. "That smell… It's been driving me crazy for weeks."

He barely took in the panic and confusion in her eyes. It was all too delicious. Too mouthwatering.

His lips crashed onto hers. Her cry made it even delightful as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. And she tasted like everything he thought she would. Innocent, sweet, like honey. Merlin. She was so sweet, tasted like pureness mixed with sugar. Fuck.

He couldn't help himself. He ignored the fists at his chest. She wasn't hurting him. She struggled against him, making his arousal worse. He couldn't help the groan that escaped his throat only to be captured by her mouth. Merlin. She tasted so good, made him want more. His hand reached up, tangling in her wild, tussled hair.

When he bit her it surprised him. It was the first time anyone had done that aiming to hurt him. It intrigued him. This one was wild, feisty… unable to give in to her own desires. It must have been all that pureness clogging up her veins.

Another threat of taking her to the Werewolf. But he never had any intention of that. He wanted her. He wanted her to himself.

He teased her, taunted her, the whole time trying to get her to submit to him. Her breath hitched when his slid his hand down her chest, his thumb flicking across her nipple. He knew it. He knew she wanted it. Whether she knew it or not, her body definitely did.

But then she completely caught him by surprise. She didn't hit him that hard, but caught the edge of his nose, painful enough to make him groan and swear. He kept his grip on her, fuming. He hadn't hurt her the whole time he'd had her in his grasp. And he could have done! He could have handed her over to Greyback, to the other Snatchers who weren't as polite as he was.

He climbed over her, turning her over to shout at her. How dare she hit him! How dare she! Because no woman had ever done that after he'd shown her his attentions. It just didn't happen!

"I was trying to be nice…" He spoke through gritted teeth, holding her in a bruising grip on her upper arms. He shook her. "If you wanted a monster, I could have turned you over to Greyback. I just wanted a bit of fun… I wouldn't have hurt you… you would have enjoyed it."

And it was true. That was his only intention. To have some fun with her, she'd have enjoyed it too, he'd have made sure of that. Especially this one. But now… Now he didn't know. Mostly he just wanted to shout at her for hitting him.

"If you don't shut up, Greyback will be the one you're answering to." He warned her, still fighting against her struggles. Because if she didn't shut up someone was bound to hear her, and he really didn't want that monster getting his hands on this one.

But then it happened.

"Fine! Fine! I'll answer to him! But please! Please don't do this!"

Her cry, her sob struck him, hard.

He froze, staring down at her in shock and confusion.

iWhat had she just said? She would rather answer to Greyback than have some fun with him? What? What was with this girl?/i

And then he saw the tears, realised she was shaking, and not from anticipation. She was afraid of him. That was when he realised what she was thinking. She thought he was going to rape her!

Shit.

He stepped away from her hurriedly, straightening his jacket. Normally the women were so consensual. He'd never had one refuse him before. Never had a woman fear him like she appeared to be doing.

Shit.

He felt quite sick all of a sudden. Because he just wasn't like that.

He looked down at the delicious girl, full of the scent of pureness. Tears were wet on her face as she looked fearfully up at him.

He turned and walked away, dropping her wand behind him. No matter what he was, how much of a monster he may be. There were some things he just didn't do.

Hermione was grateful that neither Harry nor Ron questioned her lie. She picked up her sodden blanket and took Ron's hand as he helped her up the slope. But as he pulled her in, moving to put his arm around her, she pulled away.

It was all too much. Her skin was crawling. The Snatcher's scent was still around her, that smell of earth, of the forest.

She pulled away from Ron, wrapping her arms around herself.

"'Mione?" Ron began to question, but then she snapped out of it.

"Sorry Ron… Sorry… Harry, we have to go. We have to move the camp!" She managed to stammer, looking about, in the shadows of the trees. The fog didn't seem so safe, so protective any more. She felt as though the Snatcher and his friends would burst through it at any time.

"What?" Harry began.

"I think I saw someone…" She lied. Because she most definitely ihad/i seen someone, up close and far too personal. "I… I think they saw me." She explained, spinning to face both the boys.

For a second their mouths hung open, processing her words, before they hurried to pack up the camp.

Hermione swore to herself, ignoring the boy's questioning.

Was she alright? Was she?

No. No of course she wasn't! And she was still shaking.

Her heart was still beating all too quickly, trying to calm itself after their hurried escape from Xenophilius Lovegood's house. She was pacing behind them, erecting protection barriers.

"Protego totalum… Salvio hexia…"

But the boys were walking off.

"That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron panted, as he stormed ahead of them.

"You can hardly blame him Ron." Harry interjected.

She turned, sure that the sound of a twig snapping had sounded from behind her. But the boys were stomping ahead, the forest floor crunching loudly beneath their feet.

"They've kidnapped Luna because her father supported Harry." Hermione explained, cutting in now, but Ron was still storming ahead.

She turned again, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that had fallen on her since their apparition from the 'Treacherous Old Bleeder's.'

Something wasn't right.

And then she heard Ron still.

Following him expectantly, awaiting another comment about the Lovegood's, Hermione froze on the spot when she realised why he'd stopped. Her heart rose from the pit of her stomach, to the top of her throat. Her eyes widened slightly as they fell on the man, standing metres away from her.

There, leaning languidly against a tree, eyes piercing hers- was her Snatcher. The one that had haunted her dreams for weeks. The one who's touch still crept beneath her skin, reminding her repeatedly of what had almost happened.

He smiled as she clambered after the redhead, eyes down on the ground at first before they looked up and rested on his. And that look, that look was just a delicious as he remembered. That frightened shimmer in her eyes as she took him in, fear thrumming through her body. And he could practically taste it. Practically taster iher/i already.

His dark-rimmed eyes took her in lazily, toying with something that lay at his neck. But she could look no where else but those eyes for that terrifying moment. She couldn't even tear them away to silently question Harry and Ron.

"Hello Beautiful."

His voice broke the silence, her heart pounding inside her chest. And it was as though no one else existed, like there was no one else in that forest but them. He was staring at her with those hungry eyes. The eyes that told her, he was looking forward to the chase.

And he was. He couldn't wait for her to run. To be able to chase her down.

iRun./i

The voice in the back of her head scolded her.

iRun!/i

Because her feet felt like lead. Her eyes wouldn't tear themselves away. The figure from her nightmares was there, real and more than eager to hunt her down.

He couldn't wait to catch her, to see that fear in her eyes up close, smell that scent in her hair once again… and taste her. Merlin he still wanted to taste her damnit.

iRun! Think of Harry! Think of Ron!/i

iRUN!/i

And finally her feet obeyed her, a step backwards at first. And it occurred to her that it had been a matter of seconds, but coming face to face with him again, it had felt like it lasted hours.

She tore herself away, pelting after Ron. Eternally grateful that he had acquired a wand for Harry.

His eyes followed her as he smiled after her, giving her a head start. Because this was his favourite game. He loved to chase them down. And he was more than eager to hand her over for what she had thought of him the last time they'd met. He was eager to get the sack full of galleons a beauty like her would fetch. It would serve her right. It would serve her right for denying him. Because if she hadn't then he'd have let her go… possibly.

Because he had to confess as he pelted after her, she had been haunting his dreams of late. He imagined that he could smell her in the air around him. It was stuck to him, distracting him. And he found himself hoping to come across her. And thank Merlin he had.

He just wished that maybe they'd had the opportunity to be alone again.

Damn it.

iStick to the plan Scabior. You need this money. You saw the look she gave you. A mix of fear and disgust. Just use her for the money and be done with her. /i

He scolded himself, and a scolding was what he needed. Because he had followed her scent when he had last come across it and the disappointment he felt to find that it was just her scarf, had struck him by surprise.

He was lusting after a Mudblood. After his pay-check. That girl was worth galleons and he was lusting after her… He just had no idea why.

They tore into the forest, jumping, stumbling and running so that their legs burned. She fired back at the Snatchers behind them, tried to hinder them. But there were more of them. And so few of her.

She ran, legs moving until they screamed from the effort of it. Her eyes caught a flash of him and her heart pounded against her ribcage.

iRun. Don't let him catch you!/i

Because she was so terrified of what would happen if she stopped, if she was caught. And for once it wasn't just the fear of Death Eaters capturing her… it was the fear of ihim/i capturing her… and the things he would do.

She'd woken a lot the past few nights, too hot after nightmares concerning what had happened with the Snatcher. Only in her dreams, he didn't leave. And she always woke with a jolt, sweating and scared but mostly of herself. Because surely that was sick and twisted?

She blamed it on her lack of sleep. Told herself there was no way she could control her own dreams. But all the same it frightened her. And she most definitely did inot/i want to be caught by him again.

She scrambled over a fallen tree, jumping a large rock as she began to run down a slope. Merlin they were everywhere. It was barely a comfort when she couldn't see her Snatcher amidst the ones running close by. But her heart was in her throat. If they didn't hurry they were going to get caught.

And that's when she stopped, the Snatchers behind her were still too far off. But there, before her were more of them, popping out from behind the trees. They had hurried round, cornered them.

iShit./i

She turned and apologised, aimed a stinging spell at Harry's face and watched as he fell. She was grabbed violently from behind, strong, thick arms wrapped themselves around her.

iNo!/i

Her heart was in her throat, pounding there just as hard as it had against her chest. She panted, trying to catch her breath but struggling at the same time. She wasn't going to make this easy on them.

"Don't you touch her!" Ron shouted but her shriek caught in her stunned throat as he was punched in the stomach.

And he saw it as he strode over. He saw the ginger's valiant effort to protect the girl and sneered. She hadn't spotted him yet. He enjoyed seeing her struggle, but was eager to be close to her again, to remind her that she'd missed her chance for freedom.

Merlin, he just couldn't help but want to tease her.

"Get off me!" She demanded forcefully. But as she struggled in the grip of the Snatcher, she heard a smooth voice as more footsteps approached.

"Your boyfriend'll get much worse than that- if he doesn't - learn- to behave himself."

He spoke slowly, purposefully staring at her as her eyes looked up, realising it was him from the sound of his voice.

The light of his wand hit her face, highlighting those deep, frightened eyes.

And as far as he was concerned, the red head ishould/i have gotten much worse than the punch to the stomach. He should have protected her. Something delicate like that needed saving, rescuing. And the red head had done a piss-poor job.

He smirked at her as he finished, she didn't miss the comment, her head flashing back to their last encounter. She remembered his warnings to behave and then she saw Fenrir Greyback, holding onto Harry.

Oh no.

Oh God. Oh Merlin. Oh shit!

Reluctantly he moved his wand away from her, following her gaze to the werewolf. He cast the light of his wand onto the dark haired guy they'd caught. As the light hit him, it revealed a swollen, disfigured face.

"What happened to you, ugly?" Scabior grimaced at the dark haired guy that had accompanied her. What the hell was she doing with these two losers?

Fenrir turned, his teeth bared.

"Not you… 'im." Scabior pointed at the black haired one and stepped closer.

When he didn't reply, Scabior continued.

"What's your name?"

"Dudley. Vernon Dudley."

Hermione almost let out a sigh of relief. He had said the name as though it was his own. Hopefully they'd buy it.

iPlease let them buy it!/i

"Check the list." Scabior instructed Greyback. "And you, ginger?"

"Stan Shunpike" Ron groaned, evidently still in pain. And suddenly the Snatcher's boot was at Ron's neck as he struggled on the floor. Hermione wanted to cry out but her words felt stuck inside her throat.

"Like 'ell you are. We know skinny Stan. Try again." He was relishing causing the red head pain as he pressed harder. He wasn't sadistic by nature, but when idiots did come wandering into his presence he couldn't help it. Besides… this guy had been with her… and part of him wanted to know why? He'd seen his valiant act, too little too late. Not enough to save her.

"Barney Weasley!" Ron rasped and Hermione wanted to sob in relief. At least it was believable.

"Weasley eh? Wouldn't be related to that blood traitor Arthur Weasley would you?" The Snatcher questioned.

iOh no./i

"Piss off!" He received a kick in the stomach from the Snatcher. Her breaths came out too quick, her heart was pounding. She was struggling to get free but nothing would help. "Arthur Weasley's ten times the wizard you are!" Ron continued and she wanted to scream at him. To tell him not to argue. But the Snatcher had looked up at her again. And his eyes were warning her not to say a word, before they slid over and fell on Greyback.

She closed her mouth as the Snatcher returned to Ron.

"Wasn't you that tipped him off was it?" Scabior questioned. But he was no longer interested in the red head. Looking up at that pretty little thing had reminded him of what he could be doing. Taunting her was going to be much more fun.

He couldn't help himself. He couldn't give a shit about the two fellas that had been caught alongside her. He just wanted to be near her again.

Hermione couldn't help herself. That mix of fear and… well… something else she couldn't possibly name or consider, had her staring at that man. She was vaguely aware that Ron was being questioned by Greyback.

She tore her eyes from his at the last minute, his smirk unnerving her.

"A Weasley?" rasped Greyback. "So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood…"

iOh God! Of course! Think Hermione! You have to lie!/i

Greyback turned; approaching her, another Snatcher or two must have been holding Harry now. But she froze, her heart pounding in fear. She'd been wrong. This was much worse. Much much worse. Being in the presence of Fenrir Greyback was far more terrifying than the Snatcher she had encountered.

The stench reached her nose, making her want to gag as he stood before her, too close again. It was the stench of rotting meat and wet dog hair. Merlin. She felt so sick.

He smiled darkly at her, his teeth yellow and dripping with saliva as he licked his lips.

"…And what about your pretty little friend…" She couldn't help the tiny whimper that left her lips.

The relish in Greyback's voice made Scabior's skin crawl. No. No, not her. Not her.

And before he had noticed what he was doing he had stepped over to them both, hand on Greyback's shoulder as the other Snatcher's jeered.

"Easy, Greyback."

And it didn't sound like a warning. But it was. She was his. She was his perfect, delicate little Mudblood. His paycheck. His way of life for the next month. He needed the money, and no way was this mut taking that away from him.

"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet. We'll see if she's a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny." Scabior motioned for Greyback to move by nodding his head. Fenrir moved, advancing on the dark haired guy they'd caught.

He smirked down as her fear-filled eyes followed Greyback at first before looking up at his, a flash of thanks in them. He wanted to chuckle at her, but smiled instead. Because once that flash had gone, she seemed to realise that she'd gone from one serious situation to another.

"And… what's your name beautiful?

And that question ihad/i bothered him since he'd last seen her.

"Pe-Penelope Clearwater… Half-blood." She replied. And he was too close. So close he was almost touching. Her skin was on fire again and she was trembling, frozen.

She couldn't move, she couldn't breathe.

He was sure that she was lying. He saw the flicker in her eyes as she said the name. He knew a lie when he heard one. But he let it slide. In front of all these monsters he'd let it slide. It didn't really matter iwhat/i her name was. As long as he got his money for her.

He leant in, stroking her hair before inhaling its scent. Merlin, she was mouthwatering.

"You smell like vanilla Penelope… I think you're going to be my favourite."

Her breath had caught in her throat, almost feeling the skin of his cheek against hers, he was so close. His lips were moments away. Her heart was pounding so hard, so fast that she was sure he must be able to hear it!

"There's no Vernon Dudley on 'ere."

And then he turned, a smirk on his face as he turned his back to her.

Reluctantly he turned away. At least that would serve her right. He'd just reminded her how easily it could have been, if she'd just given herself into him the last time they'd met.

"Hear that, ugly? The list says you're lying." Greyback growled at the dark haired fella. "How come you don't want us to know who you are? Hm?"

"The list is wrong. I told you who I am." But Scabior moved in front of him, putting a finger to his lips.

His wand probed his face more closely.

It was as he studied him, squinting at the swollen, disfigured face that he noticed the mark on his head. The dark hair, the scar. Fucking hell! They'd found Potter!

"Change of plan boys!" Scabior grinned, mentally counting the stack of galleons he was bound to acquire for this. As the group jeered, realising where they were going, Scabior turned as saw her stumbling, struggling.

Shit.

So he would have to take the others with him as well wouldn't he? His delicate little prey would have to come too. He had no idea why it bothered him. He had no idea, for that matter, why the hell he was playing with his paycheck. As long as he still got his money worth for her then it should be okay, right? They didn't need her. She wasn't important. He'd merely drop off the lad and be on his way with the other two, surely?

Shit.

He was counting the falling galleons in his head. They'd caught Potter. They'd get reward money for him and then she'd fetch a lovely little price, as lovely as she was. And then it clicked in his head.

Shit.

She'd been wandering around in the forest, with a red head and Potter.

Shit.

She was that Mudblood. The Mudblood that had been accompanying him. The Granger girl wasn't it?

Shit!

And it was too late now. He'd already given the orders. The group was already heading to Malfoy Manor. And he was the reason she was about to be dragged in front of a lot of crazy-arse Death Eaters. Death Eaters who liked to torture and kill Mudbloods!

Shit!

He walked beside her and her captive, catching sidelong glances at her. She was struggling, fighting the whole time. He noticed she didn't give up the fight, not once. She really was a fiery little thing. He kept his eyes on her, considering what could happen once they arrived.

But he felt a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. He knew those witches and wizards. And he knew what they did. He was about to take this innocent little bundle, and drop her off in the hands of the Dark Lord's inner-circle.

She was going to die.

A/N: You can find further chapters to this fic on adultfanfiction . net My penname is Vixen. You can either search for my pen name, or use the search tab to search for this fic under Hunted. _  
Thanks so much for all the encouraging messages. J Hope you're enjoying it!

Vixen


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Tortured

_iOh God./i_

Hermione's heart was in her throat as they entered the gates to Malfoy Manor. She was too far away from Harry and Ron. She was being led by one of the Snatcher's who was breathing heavily on her neck as he forced her forwards. She felt sick from the putrid stink of his breath, felt sick because of where she was… and because she could guess what was about to happen.

The grandness of Malfoy Manor wasn't lost on her as she struggled against her assailant, but then, she wasn't surprised. Malfoy had always been a snob, a spoilt little rich boy and a brat. It didn't surprise her that his home looked like this.

The man who had his arm wrapped around her shoulders was fighting against her, trying to grope her breast as she struggled against him. His horrible breath hit her nose again as he chuckled darkly.

Then she heard a walloping noise.

She turned, looking up at the Snatcher beside them. Her Snatcher, the one who had taken an unnatural interest in her it seemed. But whatever interest he had in her, it not enough to save her. Not enough to save her, or the others.

"Oi! They ent to play with." The Snatcher snapped at the one who held her, his grip having loosened instantly. She almost wanted to scoff at him, if she wasn't so frightened of what he might do.

His eyes were blazing, angry as he glowered at her captor. Suddenly he grabbed her sleeve and she was tugged forcefully into his grip. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him for a second, before he turned her around. He was holding a fistful of her jumper at her shoulder, and he pushed at her, almost gently, to keep her moving forward.

Light spilled out over them as the large double-doors were opened.

"What is this?" A woman's cold voice, but Hermione couldn't see it's owner from where she stood. Involuntarily, she took a step back, pressing against the Snatcher's body for a moment before she caught herself, straightening again.

Merlin.

He looked down at the young woman in his grip. She was scared, he could practically itaste/i the fear coming off of her in waves. And he was seriously beginning to regret his decision.

When that idiot had tried to fondle at her, a rage inside him had risen up. One he hadn't been aware of mere seconds before.

iIt was nothing really. It's just because you caught her. She's yours. You don't want others touching your prey… that's all./i

But despite what he told himself, he couldn't ignore the fact that he'd been looking at her the whole way over to the Manor. Every few seconds he had caught glances, studying her and trying to think of some way he could take her as his rather than hand her over.

He'd get far more for her in one piece. And where they were headed he couldn't even guarantee that he'd get her back alive.

When Narcissa had spoken to Greyback, the fear must have over taken her. Because at that moment, his eyes had been firmly fixed on the woman who lived inside that grand, beautiful building. And Merlin, he would do anything to live in a place like that.

But as he'd been looking at the woman in front of him, his eyes off the girl for once, she had stepped back, pressing into him.

He felt his groin hitch as her body pressed against him, but something else as well. He looked down at her, took in the fear, took in how small she looked around all the other men. And then he watched, she seemed to realise what she was doing, and silently scolded herself. Had he been alone, he would have chuckled. But being where he was, in that situation, there was no humour inside him. Just a feeling of dread that he didn't understand.

"We're here to see He Who Must Not Be Named!" Greyback rasped at the woman Hermione couldn't see. She understood that neither Greyback nor these Snatchers had be igraced/i with Voldemort's highest privilege, the Dark Mark. They might work for him, but they weren't in his inner-circle. They weren't actually Death Eaters.

iNot that it matters./i She argued back at herself.

Because what did it matter who they were? They were there now. And there was no escape once they entered that mansion. It would all be over.

"Who are you?"

Hermione's heart dared to leap, hoping against hope that the woman would dismiss them.

But as the man in front of her shifted to the side, as the Snatcher behind her pushed her forward, she saw the owner of the voice; Narcissa Malfoy.

"You know me!" There was resentment in he werewolf's voice, "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter!" Hermione was forced back, into the body of the Snatcher once more as Greyback forced Harry in front of Narcissa.

She couldn't stop the small gasp of surprise that left her throat as she fell into the firm body of the Snatcher. He held her to him, both hands grabbing the clothing at her shoulders this time.

And she almost felt like she was being held against him to protect her, to keep her from being noticed. To keep Greyback from remembering that she existed.

But that idea soon shattered when the man behind her spoke.

"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" She closed her eyes for a second, wanting to kick at the man behind her. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl?" Hermione's eyes flew wide as he pushed her towards her slightly. "The Mudblood who's been travelling around with 'im, ma'am."

She stood, silently seething. Hating him for all he had done, but also hating herself for having thought for even that second that he might have been protecting her.

"There's no doubt it's 'im, and we've got 'is wand as well! 'Ere, ma'am-"

Hermione felt him take a hand from her shoulder for a moment, his grip on her other one tightening as she struggled. He thrust the blackthorn wand at Narcissa, her eyebrows rising, before his hand returned to her shoulder.

Hermione cried out slightly as she was forced up broad stone steps, caught before she stumbled, by the Snatcher holding her clothes. He lifted her slightly, as she found her feet, before pushing her onwards into a hallway lined with portraits.

Fuck.

He hadn't wanted to draw attention to the girl, but when the Malfoy bird had look so eager to dismiss them, he had opened his mouth. Words had flown out before he thought them through.

If she was the Mudblood though, he might still get a hefty award from this lot. Perhaps he didn't need to take her on to the Ministry? He looked away from her after catching her as she slipped on the steps. He had to stop thinking of her as anything more than a pay cheque. He would be getting rid of her one way or another after all.

She had been the one to dismiss him. The one to believe he was as monstrous as someone such as Greyback. So what did it matter to him if he handed her over? She had her own idea of what he was like. He may as well live up to it.

"Follow me." Narcissa was leading them across the hall. All Hermione could hope, was that her spell would hold and that they would send all three of them on to the ministry as they would have done with any others the Snatchers caught. No one there would know for sure. Not if Voldemort wasn't there, and Harry had been so sure that he was abroad, searching for the wand.

"My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

iShit!/i

Oh shit, oh shit oh shit!

That cowardly idiot, Draco Malfoy, was going to be the death of them all!

Hermione's heart pounded as she tried to think it through. No. There was still a possibility that they could escape this. Harry had been so sure the night Dumbledore had died, that Malfoy had been lowering his wand. Perhaps there was still a chance, however small, to escape this.

Her heart beat furiously inside her chest as they entered a large, grand room. The drawing room was dazzling, after the darkness outside. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as they were forced into the room by the Snatchers

"What is this?"

Scabior could almost feel her shaking under his grip, as he held her shoulders. She stood still now, taking in her situation.

"They say they've got Potter." The Malfoy woman's voice was cold. "Draco, come here."

Hermione tried to still herself. She knew she was shaking and was annoyed at herself for it. But she was terrified for Harry.

The Malfoys all stood, Draco looking pale and frightened. Narcissa held the same look she always did, the one Harry had once described as having dung under her nose. Lucius was the one that frightened her the most out of the three of them. He looked dark and disheveled, something she had never seen from him before. She had never seen him look anything but royal and regal and rich. Now he looked as though he would fit in well with the Snatchers.

"Well boy?" The werewolf rasped at Draco as her Snatcher stepped back slightly, pulling her with him. Perhaps he thought she would struggle free, make a bid for escape without her friends?

He was wrong.

"Well Draco?" Lucius Malfoy pressed his son fervently. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

Hermione stood silently, her heart beat resounding in her head as she waited with baited breath.

"I can't- I can't be sure." Hermione let out a small breath of relief at Draco's reply. iThank Merlin!/i

She noticed Draco was keeping his distance from Greyback, but also that he seemed to be scared of looking at Harry.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!" Jeeesh, that Malfoy didn't wana quit, did he. He sounded sickeningly excited. Despite the fact that when the pale lad had said he couldn't be sure if the lad they had caught was Potter, he had the image of all those Galleons disappear from his head, he also felt a small stab of relief.

Was it because he knew they would harm her? This Mudblood that he had in his grasp? Surely it only worried him because he would get less money for her if she was injured? At least they would have no reason to kill her if that guy wasn't Potter.

But Lucius Malfoy was pushing his son.

"…If we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv-"

"Now we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr Malfoy?" Greyback sneered, menacingly.

"Of course not, of course not!" Lucius replied impatiently. But Scabior had the horrible idea that he was lying, that, if they were not careful, they would not be rewarded for their snatching after all.

"What did you do to him?" Lucius asked Greyback. Hermione felt sick. "How did he get into this state?"

"That wasn't us."

No. No of course it wasn't. It was her. She shifted in the Snatcher's hold uncomfortably.

"Looks more like a stinging jinx to me." Lucius stated, and Hermione couldn't breathe. "There's something there," his whisper made her blood freeze. "It could be the scar stretched tight… Draco come here, look properly! What do you think?"

iNo./i

iNo, no, no, no, NO!/i

Had it all been for nothing? Had the past few months been pointless? Was Harry going to be turned over here and now?

She watched Draco silently, willing him not to hand him over. Lie. Lie damn it Draco! Do something worthwhile for ionce/i in your damned life! She saw the reluctance in his face, and the fear.

"I don't know." And Hermione could actually ihug/i him! He walked away this time, towards the fireplace where his mother stood watching.

The mummy's boy had had enough it seemed. Scabior had seen how scared he was; looking at the swollen face of what might be Harry potter. And Scabior was sure that it was. He had been sure since he had studied his swollen face in the forest. But he wasn't going to argue, not if it meant he could leave with the three of them and still make his money's worth out of them.

No matter how much he might have gotten for Potter, he was sure he'd make far more for the three of them in one piece. Because he knew, the moment he'd heard Lucius lie to Greyback, they had no intention of telling their boss who caught him. They would get money for Potter, if they were lucky. But the blood traitor and the Mudblood would be tortured and/or killed. They would get nothing for them.

Scabior would rather take his chance with all three of them, rather than rest his next month's food bill on the head of this one guy who could be Harry Potter.

"We had better be certain Lucius."

Aw bloody 'ell!

The Malfoy bird was still chiming on about it. For fuck sake. "Completely certain that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord…"

So they still intended on calling him, did they?

"They say this is his…" She looked closely at the blackthorn wand he had handed to her. "But it does not resemble Ollivander's description… If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"

"What about the Mudblood then?" And Scabior couldn't help himself. His head whipped around at the same time as the girl he held in his grasp. Wandlight shone down on her and he saw her squint as the Malfoy bird moved closer.

Shit.

"Wait," Narcissa snapped sharply. And Hermione felt her blood turn cold. "Yes- yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Propher! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"

Hermione looked out at him with wide, fearful eyes. A look she had hoped he would never see from her. But he was almost mirroring her. His eyes were full of fear, full of reluctance and he could barely look her in the eye.

"I… maybe… yeah."

Hermione felt her heart sink. It was over. It was all over with that one admittance.

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" Shouted Lucius, striding over to face Ron. "It's them, Potter's friends- Draco look at him, isn't it Arthuer Weasley's son, what's his name-?"

"Yeah." Draco replied almost instantly this time, much less hesitation and reluctance in his voice. He had his back to them now. "It could be."

Suddenly the drawing-room door opened behind them.

The coil of fear inside her wound even tighter at the sound of the woman's name and then the sound of her voice.

"What is it? What's happened, Cissy?" Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly past her and the Snatcher, ignoring him completely. But Bellatrix's eyes were glued to her.

"But surely," she said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

"Lestrange."

The Snatcher holding her nodded at her, she felt it, but Hermione didn't turn to witness it. Hermione tried not to shake beneath her cruel, dark gaze but felt the Snatcher's grip tighten on his handfuls of her clothing.

"But surely," she said quietly, ignoring the Snatcher. "This is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"

Her eyes were dark and full of malice. Hermione could see the insanity in them.

"Yes, yes it's Granger!" Cried Lucius. "And we think this is Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"

Hermione felt her last shreds of hope beginning to disappear.

"Potter?" Lestrange shrieked and turned her attention back to the disfigured fella they had captured. Scabior loosened his grip on the girl slightly, realising he had tightened it whilst she was under Lestrange's gaze.

Both Lestrange and Mr Malfoy began to argue over who should call the Dark Lord, but Scabior was more concerned about the look Lestrange had given the innocent girl he held. It had been so dark, so full of malice and disdain. Perhaps he would still get the chance to take her. Perhaps they would have no need of her and he would be free to exchange her for Galleons at the Ministry?

"Begging your pardon, iMr/i Malfoy," Scabior turned at Greyback's interruption. "But it's us that caught Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold-"

"Gold!" Lestrange laughed, still trying to throw off Mr Malfoy. Her free hand was groping in her pocket for her wand. "Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honour of his- of-"

She stropped struggling, her eyes fixed on one of Scabior's men. So it was all becoming clear that there was no way they were going to get their payment here. He cursed silently, wishing he'd just taken them to the Ministry.

"STOP!" Bellatrix's shriek made Hermione jump, as she turned to Lucius Malfoy. His hand pulling up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on his arm. "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

iOh God./i

Hermione had no idea why Bellatrix was suddenly so afraid. She couldn't see what the woman was looking at. But for Bellatrix Lestrange to be fearful, it meant something seriously bad had or was happening.

"What is that?" Hermione watched as she stormed over to one of the Snatchers. That was when he held the sword out from behind his back. Oh Merlin no! They had Godric Gryffindor's sword!

"Sword." One of Scabior's men replied. He was confused as to why the thing was causing such a panic. He knew the woman was reputed to be nuts, but seriously! It was just a sword!

"Give it to me."

And Scabior felt like smacking his hand to his head at the stupidity of the other Snatcher.

"It's not yorn, Missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it."

Suddenly there was a loud bang and the girl unwittingly leapt back into him in surprise. Scabior straightened her hurriedly before looking up to see the Snatcher had been stunned. There was a roar of anger from the other Snatchers as Scabior let go of one of the girl's shoulders to draw his wand.

He shoved her sideways into another, younger Snatcher, who grabbed her as she struggled.

"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?" He snarled angrily at her.

"Stupefy," she screamed at him. "Stupefy!"

Hermione tried to keep her head down, but glanced up to watched what was happening. The Snatchers had turned on her, but there were not enough of them, and they were no match for her. She was a dangerous witch with prodigious skill and no conscious. She took pleasure in torturing, maiming and killing.

"Are you mad?"

Hermione found her eyes rested on those of the Snatcher who had captured her days before. He turned, firing at Bellatrix but was hit by black whip she had hit some of the other Snatchers with. For some reason her heart pounded harder, as his body crashed to the floor. She just had no idea why. It wasn't as though he had helped her in any way before now.

"Get out! Get out!" Bellatrix shrieked at both Scabior and Greyback, who was staggering around like an idiot, clutching his throat. Scabior rubbed his hand across his, taking one last look at the young woman he had dragged into this mess. She was staring back at him, her eyes wide and fearful and filled with something else. Something he couldn't quite place.

Concern.

It had been concern that had shimmered in those wide, chocolate eyes of hers. She had been concerned for him.

And Merlin it made no sense to him why she should feel like that. And it made no sense why ihe/i should be feeling that way now.

He couldn't deny it. As he stormed about the corridor, the echo of Lestrange's shouts and his prey's screams, reached his ears.

They pounded in his head, telling him he was to blame. And he knew it. He wasn't an idiot… Or maybe he was, because since when should he ever care like this about what happened to his pay cheque? Perhaps it was just because he hadn't been paid yet? Yeah… that must've been it.

But as he stood, his back against the cold stone walls, he could deny how thoroughly shit he felt, or how much hearing her tortured screams was bothering him.

"Fuck!"

His shout echoed down the empty corridor, waking an old, angry Pureblood in a painting at the end of it. He kicked the wall, hearing a pompous remark about having some 'filthy ruffian kicking at his castle… how he was not worthy to be spat on by the likes of the Malfoys… he had no right to…'

And Scabior pressed his head against the wall trying to block it all out.

The painting's words; because he knew what he was. He never doubted it, never tried to convince himself he was better, because he knew it wasn't true.

Tried to block out the insane woman's yells; because they were making his head pound. Reminded him of the welt he now had on his back where her whip had hit him, before tangling round his neck.

Tried to block out those screams; because he knew it was his fault. Knew he was the scum of the earth, and right now he was okay with being told it. Okay with the beating Lestrange had given him, because right now, with those echoing screams resounding in his head, he knew he thoroughly deserved it.

Hermione had never been so scared in her life, when Bellatrix demanded that Harry and Ron be taken down to the cellar. Being wandless and unprotected, Hermione was on the floor quicker than she could believe, her body racked in pain.

"Where did you get this sword?|

And before Hermione would have liked, she was sobbing. She refused to admit the truth. She would never betray Harry and Ron. She would never… But the scream that left her lips echoed around the room.

She could almost feel Lucius's smirk on her. Imagined that Draco was probably turned away, facing the empty fireplace, trying to pretend nothing was happening. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. She couldn't ignore the pain of the Cruciatus curse as she was hit with it again. She couldn't ignore the blazing pain in her arm, as Bellatrix began to slice and burn into it with her wand.

And as much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't ignore the gut-wrenching realisation that no one was coming for her. The boys were locked in the cellar, unable to come to her rescue.

She was alone.

It happened in a whir.

Scabior had been storming towards the drawing room, angry and determined to get his Mudblood back. Not to keep of course. Only to exchange for the galleons he so desperately needed to survive the next month. He had been nearing the bottom of the staircase, about to enter through the opposite end of the drawing-room to what they had previously entered, when he stopped stock-still. He heard a noise, coming from just outside the drawing room.

He almost chuckled to himself. It seemed the boys had escaped the cellar, and instead of running for it, they were heading towards the drawing-room to rescue the girl. He smirked, knowing they would fail.

As the two lads stood before the drawing-room door, which stood ajar, Scabior strained his ears to hear what was happening in the room beyond.

"I think…" It was Lestrange's voice, still louder than it needed to be. "we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback can have her, if he wants?"

"Noooooo!" Scabior stuck his head around the edge of the staircase to see the ginger blood traitor rushing through the door. He smirked to himself as the 'would-be-Potter' ran into the room after him.

He heard the commotion of fighting and dueling within as he crept to the door, eager not to rush in to meet his death.

Hermione barely heard Bellatrix's voice as she lay on the ground. Her throat burned from screaming, but not as much as her body did. She hurt all over. She had never felt such pain before. Now she knew why wizards feared the Cruciatus Curse so much, why they feared iBellatrix Lestrange/i so much!

Her head was light, slow tears running down her face as she turned her head- her body screaming in pain at the one simple movement. She looked down at her arm but couldn't let out a sob at what she saw. She merely let the tears flow.

iMudblood./i

Her bloodied up arm stung so she avoided moving it. She didn't move any part of her body, even at the sound of Greyback's name. She wouldn't give them reason to punish her further. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep her mouth shut. And by God she wanted to. She never, iever/i wanted to betray Harry. She refused to do it.

And it confused her as she lay there, considering what may be her last few moments, when her mind came to rest on the look the Snatcher had given her, before he walked away. Of all things to think of, of all things to pique her curiosity… that was not one she should be considering in her last moments.

Had she had the energy, she might have sighed. Might have scolded herself for the ridiculousness of it. But she couldn't deny that last glance from him had confused her and hit her down to the very core.

He had looked scared for her.

The quiet suddenly broke and Hermione tried to look up at the yelling that came from the door behind her. Unfortunately she was forced up from her position on the floor, her head so light that her world span. She felt horrifically sick but fought to ignore it when she saw Harry and Ron were dueling against the Malfoys.

That was when she felt it, the cold blade pressing at her neck.

"S-stop!" She cried out.

"Drop your wands!" Bellatrix hissed from behind her. "Drop 'em!"

Scabior crept to the door, looking through it at the chaos within. Lestrange was holding the woman he'd snatched from the forest. She was holding a blade to the girl's neck, warning the boys to stay back, to drop their wands.

But Scabior followed the girl's gaze, her eyes looking slightly out of focus. He saw the House-Elf on the chandelier, long before Bellatrix noticed. He presumed that had been how the boys had made their escape from the cellar. He smirked, taking his chance and pelted into the room.

As the chandelier fell, Scabior passed the ginger one and shoved him out of the way. He caught the girl, who'd been dropped by Lestrange in her bid to escape the fall of the chandelier. Before he could give the red head a chance to raise his wand he wrapped his arm around the girl, vaguely aware that she was screaming.

Her world tilted as Belltrix dropped her. She raised one of her arms to protect herself from the falling debris, the other waited to take the force of her fall. And then someone caught her. She looked up, expecting Ron's warm eyes, not the piercing ones that stared back. The Snatcher had caught her. Her world span as he righted her, her head too light as she made an attempt to struggle. But his arm wrapped around her, his hand grasping her arm, the one she had raised to protect her head, her injured arm.

His hold on her was tightening around her arm, causing immense pain. She stopped struggling; unable to stand the pain he was causing her, even without her struggling to exacerbate it. And then she felt it, she screamed as the pain in her arm increased; they were apparating.

Her head span.

iNo./i

As the feeling of apparition began, making her feel pushed through a small tunnel, the force of the apparition made her arm feel like both she and the Snatcher were being pushed into it. And for all she knew they were. As they squeezed together, her the pain reached new heights. She was vaguely aware that someone was screaming. But instead of reappearing somewhere new, all she saw was darkness closing in on her.

The piercing eyes of that Snatcher were the last thing she saw before the darkness completely over took her.

Scabior came to a sudden stop inside his room, scrambling slightly to catch what was now a limp, unconscious form within his arms. He looked down at her, long dark lashes rimmed those chocolate eyes that were closed to the world. And then he realised his hand was wet.

He looked down at it.

Blood.

He hurriedly grabbed at the arm he had dropped in order to catch her motionless body. Sure enough, there, on her arm, was the smudged outline of a bleeding wound.

One that read; Mudblood.

A/N: You can find further chapters to this fic on adultfanfiction . net My penname is Vixen. You can either search for my pen name, or use the search tab to search for this fic under Hunted. _  
Thanks so much for all the encouraging messages. J Hope you're enjoying it!

Vixen


	5. Chapter 5

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FFNET A/N: Hey all, thank you so0o0o much for your support so far. You can follow the story over at adultfanfiction(dot) net under the same title. I can't post more on because of the content. :) Thank you so0o much to everyone who has favourited and reviewed so far tho. And if you get a chance, there are also fanvids on youtube if you wana check them out? just search Scabior/Hermione- HUnted and they should come up _

Thanks again! _ x

**Chapter Five**

**Captive**

Scabior looked at the girl.

Her long, dark lashes rimmed the eyelids that kept her chocolate-brown eyes, closed from the world. She had wild, untamable hair, much like his…

Only she had made obvious attempts to tame hers… and he had given in.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed as she sat there, her chin against her chest, one side of her face almost on her shoulder as her head hung. He couldn't help but keep studying her, from her slightly baggy clothes, to her rosy pink lips.

She really was beautiful.

He sat across from her, sat at his small kitchenette table. He had his legs stretched out on the table at first, but had swung them beneath the table, eager to get a closer look. So now he leant his chin on one hand as he studied her.

She'd been unconscious for a while since he had caught her, after apparating her to his one bedroom apartment. He wasn't too concerned, or surprised considering the amount of time and effort Lestrange had put in to torturing the girl.

As he looked at her he questioned himself.

iWhy the hell had he taken her? What was he going to do with her now?/i But he calmed himself, assuring himself that, had he been seen, the Death Eaters would have blown down his door an hour ago.

He peered at her, the mug on the table sat empty after the long time he sat gazing at the girl. She was beautiful, in a delicate sort of way. Her clothes looked too baggy on her, they didn't suit her, didn't flatter her. But it didn't matter. He was content with staring at her as she was.

iWhat bwasb/ he going to do with her?/i

Before he could ponder that question, she began to stir. He sat, chin in his hand as he smiled slightly, gazing at her still.

_iOh God./i_

She hurt. Her body hurt all over.

Had she fallen out of bunk and slept funny on the forest floor?

No. Something was pulling at her, telling her to wake her, telling her there was a reason she hurt so much and that reason was dangerous. She needed to wake up!

Hermione fought the urge to merely fall back into darkness again. She began to remember in a flood of memories.

i_Oh Merlin no! Harry! Ron!/_i And before she opened her eyes, she remembered the ones belonging to the Snatcher, staring back at her.

Her eyelids fluttered as she fought them, finding them heavy as she opened her eyes. At first she saw her jumper, her shoulder. She caught the glimpse of a dingy looking room as her eyes began to focus. She saw a rickety single bed, an old one with metal railings as the head and foot-post. The wallpaper was peeling.

Her eyes travelled, feeling like she was being watched as she began to fully awaken. Then she looked up, straight ahead of her, into the eyes of the Snatcher.

She gasped, shocked as her heart leapt fearfully from her chest. She bolted backwards, finding herself tied to a chair. She cried out as the chair tipped and the Snatcher's hand reached out. He grabbed a handful of her jumper at her chest. He pulled her forward, the chair tipping forward slightly in momentum, before it stilled.

"Careful there luv. Don't want you to be cracking your 'ed open, do we?"

His smooth voice reached her ears, her heart pounding as she tried to calm herself.

He watched, as the realisation of her situation seemed to set it. She looked around hurriedly, taking in the grubby apartment. He didn't care. He was watching, as her brain seemed to tick away behind those wide chocolate coloured eyes.

He chuckled as she looked around, seeming to realise she was stuck.

She looked back at him, scared for a moment before she steeled herself.

"Who are you?"

And it wasn't a question. She was pleased that her voice sounded strong, it sounded like a demand, not the timid question that she had thought of seconds before.

He let out a small laugh of amusement at her audacity, sitting back in his chair before leaning in again. He merely smirked at her, happy to tease and taunt her for a bit. She looked around again in frustration, struggling against her bonds.

"Where's Harry and Ron?"

Another demanding question, this time more fear-ridden than strong. She was terrified. Where were they? Had they escaped? Was Harry being tortured and killed by Voldemort this very instant?

"I dunno," he said bluntly, still smiling at her. She growled, fighting furiously against the ropes that bound her hands, her body screaming in protest, her arm burning.

"Let me go!" She shouted at him, fed up with the act he was putting on. Because him not answering her questions was driving her nuts. Having him sitting there, so calmly, whilst her mind was running wild and her heart couldn't calm itself, well he was driving her mad.

"Ah, I don't think I'll be doing that luv." And she wanted to smack that damned smirk from his face, wanted to scratch those deep and searching eyes out.

Because she felt as if he could see through her, down to her very soul. He made her feel naked, just with one glance from those grey-blue eyes.

She sat back against the chair, teeth clenched together.

"And why not?" she bit the question out through gritted teeth, anger coursing through her body. She didn't have time to play his games. She had to get out, find Harry and Ron, make sure they were okay.

But the Snatcher's only response was to chuckle, her anger rising as she growled angrily at him. "Let me go!" She snapped at him again.

The whole time he sat there, his hand resting back on his chin now, she didn't stop her struggle. She didn't give up trying to get information out of him. It was clear to him now why Potter had hung around her. She was smart, strong… and beautiful. He knew what it was like to roam around the forest for weeks on end. No wonder they'd taken this beauty with them.

"Look," she tried to take a breath and calm herself down. But it didn't work. "I don't know who you think you are but…"

"Hey missy, it's my house you're in, so mind your manners." He was still smirking at her, and she was simmering with anger.

She looked around pointedly at the shabby room. The rickety single bed, the metal railings showing how old it was. The peeling wall paper, the moth-eaten curtains. Merlin only knew what else was behind her, beyond her view. And the kitchenette was tiny, a small cooker, on which a whistling kettle was sitting silently. A broken cupboard and another with a broken door, hanging off of one hinge.

Manners? In this place? In front of him, when the last time they'd met he'd accosted her?

"Ha!" She let out the derisive exclamation before she could clamp her mouth closed. She watched as his smirk finally fell. And in that moment her anger began to be replaced by something far worse… fear.

She was watching as he looked at her, eyes piercing her as he sat in silence. She couldn't read the expression on his face but she was struggling fervently at her bonds again.

i_Nice going Granger. Upset the Snatcher holding you captive. Smooth move!/i_

Her anger had gotten the better of her and now all she could do was wait for the Snatcher's response… Wait for her punishment.

Finally he spoke, his back to her as he stood up and did something at the cooker.

"This might not be the Ritz luv, or the cozy palace you're used to Princess. But this is my home, and you ishall/i show me some respect."

He knew he was snapping. He was annoyed. Pissed off at the little chit. Not everyone could afford to live in a castle. He was lucky he could afford to keep this place. He took a second to glance over his shoulder, saw her looking at the table. She looked pitiful, head down and looking worried. But he looked beyond her, at the room that she had searched moments before.

Well it was a tip. But it wasn't his main concern. He was barely there after all.

"Tea?"

One word and she lifted her head. He still sounded slightly annoyed, but he seemed to be attempting kindness. This was her chance. If she had a cup of tea, he would unbind her surely?

"Y-yes please." So if he undid the bonds that tied her hands behind her back, and kept her tied to the chair, she could try and distract him.

She looked at the doorway, ahead of her. She saw a small hallway that had two doors, one she assumed was the front door as boots and an umbrella were cluttered in the corner between the two doors.

He knew what she was thinking even though he had his back to her. He had no doubt she was going to try and escape. He chuckled silently.

i_Good luck with that!/i_

But he made her a cup of tea all the same. He wanted to give her the chance to be well behaved. Perhaps if she were well behaved he would be able to sit civilly with her, learn more about her maybe? Why it mattered to him he had no idea.

He turned, placing his mug on the table before drawing his wand, looking at her skeptically. He rubbed the slight stubble on his chin, scratching his head with his wand at he considered her.

Merlin, why couldn't his wand just go off whilst he was scratching that tangled mass of hair with it?

She tried to keep her face straight as he looked at her, but her heart was pounding. She found it hard to keep her eyes off the door.

He knew she would try and escape. He guessed what her plan was, but flicked his wand at her all the same. She cried out suddenly as the magical wands unbound her from the chair but forced her hands round to her front, coiling around her wrists once more.

She looked up at him in alarm and Merlin it was delicious. She was so confused, he saw the outrage running beneath her skin as she pretended to be good, to be innocent. And really she was innocent; he could still smell it on her.

"B-but…" She began, her eyes wide and questioning as she looked down at her tied hands. He merely ignored her, flicking his wand at the oven. He turned back, grabbing her mug of tea from the unit; a chipped, white mug compared to his black one.

Fine. Okay. So it wasn't ientirely/i ideal, but she could still run. She sat silently, heart racing as she waited for him to walk around the small table. He seemed to be going slower, just to annoy her. But it was probably just her imagination.

Her heart pounded in her chest as he reached out, handing her the hot mug of tea.

"Be careful, it's hot."

That was all she gave him chance to say. As soon as she had taken the hot mug of tea in her bound hands, she threw it in his direction, scrambling to get to the door.

He flicked his wand with ease, dodging the hot liquid instinctively.

"Impedimenta!" The liquid flew threw the air with the mug in slow motion as he moved round it, grabbing her arm.

She squealed in pain as he caught her injured arm, grasping his hand over the cut. She had propelled herself forward, her eyes set on the door, but he had grabbed her, pulling against the whole of her body weight.

The mug smashed as it hit the ground.

"Ah!" she squealed and then cried out as she struggled against him but he was having none of it. He pulled her back against him, dragging her back with ease. Her back hit him, her body pressed against his for a second, and he smelt that scent in her hair. He forced her round hurriedly, looking down at her sternly as he picked her up, lifting her for just a second, before plonking her down into her seat.

He flicked his wand, finally pulling it away from her upper arm. It had dug into her skin, scratching her. But she was more grateful when he moved his other hand, the one that was now wet with her blood. The cut on her forearm had reopened in their struggle. She cried out again as the ropes forced her arms round, her eyes watering at the pain of it.

"I didn't want to hurt you." The Snatcher stated, still sounding quite chirpy, like he had in the forest when he spoke to her about Ron.

_i Your boyfriend'll get much worse than that, if he doesn't - learn- to behave himself./i_

The words echoed round her head, reminding her of his threats.

iOh Merlin, where was Ron?i

"But you need to learn to behave." The Snatcher smirked suggestively at her, making her shudder. He turned to the sink; she presumed he was washing her blood from his hand. She felt the trickling blood slowly running down her arm. It hurt like hell, so she sat still, trying to think of a way out.

"So," Scabior turned. He hadn't missed the way she'd shivered under his smirk before he turned to scrub at his hands. He was sure she couldn't miss the smell of food cooking in the oven, and sure enough, when he turned back she was staring at it.

He grinned to himself. He could use that to his advantage. Barter his food for good behavior. She'd have to eat before he sold her on anyway. No one would pay for a half-starved little thing like her… well… then he thought of a few men who might. Men like Lucius Malfoy.

Scabior knew of his activities outside the manor. He knew what that Death Eater lot were like. Damn. He looked back at the girl who was staring intently at the oven, unable to hide the fact that she was obviously trying to come up with another plan.

Damn. He didn't really want to hand her over to the likes of them… He'd have to choose a worthwhile client. One with less… sadistic pleasures.

Damn. The smell of the food was distracting her. When was the last time they'd had a decent meal? Bugger.

i_Concentrate Hermione! You need to get out of here!/i_

It smelt like chips. Damn, she hadn't had chips in months.

She sat there, trying to focus on a way out of the situation she was in, but as he dished his food up, her mouth was watering.

Scabior dished up the fried eggs, chips and ham, the last of his food for now. He put the plate on the table, grabbing his knife and fork from the drawer that would never shut. He sat down opposite her, a cruel smirk on his lips as he looked up and saw the evident hunger on her face.

He tried to hide his smirk, continuing to eat his food in front of her. He waited until he'd had five mouthfuls, savoring the taste of real food, before he looked up at her again.

"Want some?" He smirked at her and she blinked herself out of her stupor. She hadn't even realised she was staring at it. She glowered at him, shaking her head and ignored the way her tummy disagreed with her decision.

He stabbed his fork into a chip before holding it out to her.

"Sure?" He reached out, moving the chip towards her mouth but she clamped her lips together, leaning back away from him. He laughed as he chewed the ham in his mouth. He couldn't help but admire her stubbornness.

"Well, don't say I didn't offer." He smiled at her, chomping at the chip on his fork pointedly as she stared daggers at him. "You should've made the most of it, dunno when our next meal'll be."

It didn't take long for him to eat his dinner. It seemed he really had been hungry. She presumed that he had also been living off what the forest could provide. She watched as he washed up his plate.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her small voice made him turn from the sink, looking at her as she stared back at him. He saw the sorrow in her eyes as she looked up at him, trying determinedly to appear strong. He wiped the plate up, regarding her for a moment.

He had no idea really.

"Need the money. We're not all as fortunate as you Princess." He put the plate in the broken cupboard and turned back to face her, waving his wand at the shattered mug on the floor.

"But you just handed over Harry Potter." She spoke slowly, as though he might not understand the significance of what he'd done. "You know that right?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, finding her attitude amusing. "So?"

"So," her volume rose. "He's the only one that can stop this war! Why would you do that? Why would you want Volde-"

He was across the room in a flash.

She felt the chair tip back as his hand pressed against her mouth. She looked up as he moved to stand behind her chair, he was looking around nervously. He seemed to relax slightly but turned back to look down at her, his hand still covering her mouth.

"Are you mad?" He finally breathed, looking down at her in alarm. He looked confused as he frowned down at her. "His name's taboo'd you stupid girl. I don't want that lot trampling through here."

Hermione glanced around and looked back up at him pointedly. He got what she was getting at. The room looked as though it had been trampled through long ago.

"Oi." He lent down and she froze, feeling his breath against her neck. He spoke into her hair, into her ear as he leant closer, her heart thumping against her chest. Her arm pulsed with pain as his body pressed against the back of the chair as he moved closer. Her fingers twitched as the fabric of his trousers rubbed at the cut.

His groin hitched when he felt her fingers brush against his trouser legs. Merlin what he wouldn't give for those hands to be a little higher.

He licked his lips.

"What did I tell you about manners and respect Princess?"

Her skin tickled as he breathed against her neck, speaking softly into her ear. But there was that feral growl in his throat as he spoke, that had frozen her in place. Her heart thudded and her blood was coursing with anticipation.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to drown it all out. Trying to ignore it all. Trying to abate the fear.

Merlin. He breathed her in. That smell, the feel of her soft curls against his face. She was driving him crazy. And he was almost glad that she wouldn't submit to him. Because he knew, that given the chance… he would ruin her.

"Now crazy girl, if I take my hand away you're not gonna say anything stupid again are you?" He brushed her hair back with his free hand, running the soft curls through his fingers. He gently brushed it behind her right shoulder, leaving her neck bare.

He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, staying where he was with his face close to her neck, his legs pressed against her hands.

She wanted to whimper, but she stayed silent for a moment as he moved his hand. The smell of evergreens and earth had filled her senses and she remained still, waiting for him to move. But he didn't.

She waited, silently as he brushed her hair aside. She heard him breathe in near her neck and she tried to hold back the shiver that ran down her spine.

"And what was that?" His quiet, inquisitive voice, so close to her ear. He had seen the way her body quaked. He was too close.

"Why would it matter if the Death Eaters came here?" She tried to change the subject and felt him still in response. "Surely they'd be pleased? Surely they'd be glad that you had me… that I didn't get free…" she trailed off, her heart aching as she thought of Harry… thought of Ron.

"I doubt they'd be pleased with me stealing you, Princess." The Snatcher's breath tickled her bare neck, his lips almost touching it he was so close.

"Why?" And it came out as a wispy breath. Not the strong question she'd wanted it to be.

She felt his fingers, his knuckles brushing the back of her neck. She tried not to shake, tried to ignore the fear coursing through her with her racing blood.

"Because I stole you from them."

He felt her freeze beneath him. Could almost see her brain ticking away as she questioned why and what he was going to do with her. He heard the small noise that slipped between those rosy pink lips.

And her head was spinning. He'd stolen her from Voldemort's inner-circle? But it was more than clear that he wasn't working for the Order of the Phoenix. So who's side iwas/i he on? And why did he have her here, tied to the chair?

And suddenly her memories flashed back to the incident in the forest. She felt him above her as she thrashed against him on the damp ground. No. No, she had to get out of there. She'd rather face the Death Eaters! At least if she was with them then she had a chance of being reunited with Harry and Ron!

Because she couldn't begin to consider what she'd do if they were dead.

Suddenly her body jolted, her heart missing a beat. The Snatcher ran his tongue up the bare skin of her neck and unwittingly her body quivered. A mix of fear, hate and anticipation.

She snapped her head round to glare at him as he laughed, leaning back slightly.

"Stop it!" She snapped at him. "Please?" She tried to be nice, be polite and she might get somewhere. "Where are Harry and Ron?" He laughed again in response.

"You're still worried about them?" He exclaimed. He looked down at her bare neck again, eager to taste her skin for a second time. "Look, if Potter's your boyfriend then I've got news for you…"

"Harry is not my boyfriend!" Hermione exclaimed, breathing fast.

"You mean you're with the ginger tosser?" The Snatcher began to question, looking both confused and disgusted.

"No!" But she fell quiet, the heat rising on her face. She had to look away, tear her eyes away from him as they watered slightly.

i_Harry, Ron… where are you?/i_

He was laughing.

"Oh dear…" Because it was blatantly obvious by her reaction, how she felt about the blood traitor. Oh dear… what was with her taste in men? She could do so much better than that dickhead.

"How could you do this?" She suddenly shouted, turning to face him angrily. Her eyes looked shimmery, wet, but she held the tears back as she shouted at him. "How could you hand Harry over? How is he meant to defeat Vol-"

His hand covered her mouth again; her face stinging where he'd slapped his hand against her.

"Oi! Look crazy girl, I warned you." And he was annoyed now. She hadn't even thought about what she was saying. She was just so mad! But if she said his name, if the Death Eaters came, surely she could find out where Harry and Ron were? If not she'd be sent to the other Muggle borns right? She could try and escape from there?

He moved his hand, but kept it hovering over her mouth for a second.

"Are you nuts?" He breathed in exasperation. "What you thinkin' sayin' the Dark Lord's name in the first place?"

"I'm not afraid of him." Hermione said blankly, still looking up at him as he stood behind her.

"Well you should be." He waved his wand and saw the panic on her face before she clenched her eyes shut. "Silencio" Her eyes snapped open and outrage fell on her features.

_iNo!/i_

But as she went to cry out, nothing came. Not one sound.

"Well, that's better. Don't want that lot running through this place in the middle of the night." He said, referring to the Death Eaters. He looked down to see she was mouthing up at him, and he smirked in reply.

He leant into her neck again; felt her still as he stalked round the chair to stand before her. He crouched down, keeping his eyes on her, a small smile on his lips as he took her in. She really was a beauty.

He reached up and Hermione's eyes widened. It was the only thing she could do in response. His hand gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. She held his gaze as he peered at her. Peered into her with those blue-grey eyes. And again she couldn't move.

Heh. She really iwas/i beautiful. The more he looked, the more he saw it. His eyes stared back into hers and saw the fear there, the sorrow. He saw the strength, the determination. And he saw the innocence, her pureness.

_iHow could you?/i_

She mouthed the words, her eyes watery but holding the tears back. Her chocolate-brown eyes stared at him, accusing. And quite suddenly he felt the need to get away from that gaze.

"You know there are those of us whose lives have gone to shit because of your little Potter friend, Princess." He got to his feet, annoyed, but not at her. Not annoyed enough to raise his voice or give her reason to fear him further. Just annoyed enough to voice a reason, to try and get that look in her eyes to disappear.

"Not all of us have the means or methods to pick a side. Your precious lil' boyfriend there may ithink/i he's fighting for what's right, but what about those of us who aint in a position to fight? Things aren't just black and white luv."

He turned back to her, her accusing gaze annoying him further, burning into his skin.

"Look, it's not like you'll ever understand. Even if you're a Mudblood, you came from a rich home…" He could tell that, just by looking at her. Just from what he'd learnt from watching her since he'd chased her in the forest. "There are those in this world that weren't that fortunate. Those who had it hard enough to begin with… before your boyfriend started a war."

And it was almost a sneer as he leant against the table, glaring at her as he crossed his arms.

But she couldn't answer back. No matter how much she silently screamed at him, there was no point in opening her mouth.

And the sad part was, she kind of understood it! Really she did. Because even the Wizarding World seemed to have classes, classes that it shouldn't have, and was always pretended didn't exist. And though all witches and wizards started off in a castle, she hadn't given much thought to what happened to them after. She had always been smart, a lover of learning- top of her class. She'd always been told she had promise. She would go far in the Wizarding World.

She hadn't given much thought to those who weren't. The ones who didn't have much of a home to return to once they finished school. And had that happened here? Is that why he was a Snatcher?

She still didn't even know his name. And though she still hated him, still feared him, it irked her.

But she couldn't speak anyway. So she had no need to know his name, because she wasn't able to shriek it back at him.

He stood silently for a moment, still not liking the way she was appraising him.

He groaned and rubbed his hand over his tired face. He'd gone long enough without sleep. Two nights of stalking through the forest and hunting her down before he had caught her and taken her captive. He really needed to get some sleep if he was to be on his toes.

She was struggling at her bindings again when he straightened up. She seemed to sense he'd had enough of the one sided argument.

Again she sensed that it just wasn't fun for him anymore. So he'd had enough. But what he had planned, she didn't know.

He waved his wand, perturbed when she flinched and closed her eyes again.

She opened her eyes in surprise when she found the bonds had released her from the chair. Her hands were still tied behind her back, but she wasn't tied down anymore. She leapt to her feet and backed away, the chair spilling over noisily as he sighed.

Because she still wasn't giving up. And it both annoyed and amazed him.

She backed up, looking around; the only sound was her panted breath. She glanced behind her; the window was mostly blocked up with wood on one side behind the curtains. She tried to glance down but saw nothing but the rooftops of similarly shabby houses beneath and around them.

She looked up as he approached, rolling his eyes. With her hands tied together all she could do was try and dodge to one side, pulling her hands out of his reach. But he was a Snatcher. He was trained for this. And she was unarmed.

Easily he grabbed her tied hands, holding the magical ropes between her two wrists. She winced as the rope rubbed at her skin but when she noticed him looking, she wiped the trace of pain from her face. She scowled at him, fear in her eyes. Desperation was running through her veins- and how he could taste it in the air around them.

Because she had no idea what his plans were, what awaited her now he had sat and chatted civilly with her. Was it all a plan to lull her into a false sense of security? Because it hadn't worked. Not once had she felt relaxed in his presence. His eyes seemed to pierce her to the core every time he glanced her way.

And she hated the way it made her feel.

He tugged at the bonds on her wrists, pulling her towards him. She crashed against him, unable to prevent it. He didn't smirk, didn't give anything away with his expression. He just stared at her.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth, because she had nothing to say, when no one could hear her. Suddenly his free hand reached up. She struggled again, but he held her firm, the ropes burning and breaking her sensitive skin. Her injured arm was screaming at her to give up the protest, her sleeve had fallen over part of it, and was rubbing at the open cuts.

Finally he spoke, brushing her hair back from her face, as though trying to sooth her.

"Now, do you think you can behave, whilst I get some sleep?" And it was almost suggestive, almost a threat. She didn't answer. She couldn't. But she looked up at him, finally, silently pleading.

iPlease… Please let me go?/i

She mouthed the words up at him. But it wasn't enough. He slowly shook his head before turning around. He began to pull at her and she dug her boots into the floor, trying to hinder him. Whatever was beyond that room, she was sure she didn't want to find out.

She was quite a pain in the arse really. He had to move, to stand behind her and force her on, her boots slipping on the floor as he pushed her forward.

In moments they had reached the hallway, and for a panicked moment, Hermione began to fear he was taking her outside. He was ready to trade her for his galleons already. She was going to be traded for his next meal, bartered away like a possession.

Well. She was nobody's possession.

She increased her struggle, flailing about as much as she could. Even surprising him by trying to bite at him. He almost chuckled at that, but concentrated on moving her without injury. Eventually she just tried to sink to the floor, a dead weight to hinder him. But it didn't. He merely pulled at her ropes, pulling her along as her legs dragged and scrambled along the floor, her boots doing nothing to stop him.

She looked up and saw the room they had left becoming further away as he opened the door to the bathroom. Cold air hit her and she shivered. It was evident that the door was kept shut for a reason; the room was like a fridge.

"You can cool down in here until I say otherwise." His smooth voice was at her ear as he practically threw her to the floor. She went to frown up at him but he'd waved his wand. More ropes appeared, wrapping themselves around a thick, metal pipe that ran through the bathroom from floor to ceiling. It was thick, the type you would get in old factories and warehouses. She'd even seen them in Myrtle's bathroom at Hogwarts.

But she didn't have time to question further, because once the ropes had circled the pipe a few times, they hurtled towards her. She cried out, making no noise as she tried to scramble away. The rope was faster, however, and wove itself around the bindings behind her back. She let out a startled cry as the rope tightened, her body dragged along the bathroom floor before slamming her into the pipe.

Her eyes watered, as she let out a silent scream. The force in which she had slammed into the cold metal reverberated up her back, but mostly her arm seared in agony. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, turning her head away from him so he couldn't see the tear that ran down her face.

"Sorry about that." But he didn't sound sorry at all. He crouched down before her one of his hands resting on her leg. And that touch disturbed her; she couldn't help but glare at that hand as though it was burning her.

"Now, if you're good…" he began. But that hand slid up her leg and suddenly she couldn't hold her anger back anymore. No matter how much her body hurt and screamed and shouted at her, she suddenly kicked out, one leg hitting his knee, the other his shin.

He swore, jumping back away from her and getting to his feet. He frowned at her in disbelief, stepping back out of her reach as she tried to kick him again. She was frowning back up at him, angry wet eyes. And for some reason it bothered him.

"So I'm guessing we're gonna scratch the being good part?" He waved his wand lazily and more ropes wound their way around her, this time binding her ankles together.

i_Let me go!/i_

One last try. One last attempt at seeking his humanity. But he merely sighed before stretching his arms over his head. He let out a yawn before turning his back to her. She looked around hurriedly. She shifted as much as she could, the pain pulsing in her arm. She kicked out her bound feet, hitting another pipe, the noise reverberating loudly around the room.

He looked back in surprise, but this time he looked on in amusement.

"No one can hear you luv." He told her.

That she'd already guessed, as she hadn't been gagged in the first place. The only reason she appeared to have been silenced now was because he feared her calling the Death Eaters to him.

"Even if they can, no one will come for you… not round here." And with that he smirked at her devilishly. "Besides… they're used to a fair amount of noise from my place… if you get my meaning?"

With that he made a clicking noise and winked before stepping out of the cold room, shutting the door behind him.

She heard him spell the door, locking it shut but he didn't guard the room from noise. It seemed he wanted to be able to hear what she was doing in there. She guessed it was in case she found some means of escape. Well, if he wanted to hear what she was up to, then he would. She was going to make as much noise as possible. Because Hermione Granger never gave up!

A/N: please let me know what you think? :) xxx


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